The Fifth Year: Dipropyltryptamine
by AlExojackal
Summary: Yet another dull introduction to my story. The next segment will get them to Hogwarts. A HUGE thanks to all you people who gave me such wonderful reviews, I hope this is up to par. If not, flame me.


A/N: I don't own any of this. And with good reason. But let's not go there. This was all written in one go, as all my stories unfortunately are. Which means they all suck--I mean! Uh ..   
  
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A bright shaft of light fell across Harry's face, with the feeling it was boring into his eyes. Blinking away the hazy images, he groped about on the nightstand for his glasses, and crammed them onto his face.  
"Oh! Mrs. Weasley, er, we were just getting up now." Harry spoke, despite Ron's denying snores.  
"Oh, alright dear. Breakfast is on the table and everyone else is awake." Mrs. Weasley shook Ron awake, who was still mumbling something about flying houses and purple snitches.   
"I'm getting up, I'm getting up." he mumbled mechanically, sitting upright in bed with bleary eyes unfocused.  
Mrs. Weasley dumped an armful of laundry in the basket by the door, before making her exit. "Hurry up dear, you don't want your breakfast going cold!" she called, as she exited.  
"Awfully fussy." grumbled Ron, as they both began to dress speedily.   
  
  
Fully dressed, hair combed, and quite presentable, Ron and Harry went downstairs to the crowded -- or politely, cozy -- kitchen, managing to get a seat at the table. Naturally, since fate was always so happy to intervene, Harry ended up sitting right next to the furiously blushing Ginny.  
"Pass the salt, Harry?" she said uncertainly, looking down at her food.   
"Er -- sure, uh, here." Harry said, passing her the shaker of salt quickly.  
_Good grief,_ Harry's inner voice told him, _You've faced the most evil wizard in the whole world four times and lived to tell the tale, not to mention countless other dark wizards -- and you can't even talk coherently to your best friend's sister!_  
Harry squashed that nagging little voice quickly, attention diverting to the twins, George and Fred.   
"So Harry -- "  
" -- did you like the book?"  
"Picked it out ourselves, -- "  
"Thought it might come in handy for you."  
The pair of them had an interesting habit of starting and finishing eachother's sentances, which made it a little confusing at times. Alright, more than a little confusing. Harry nodded to the pair of them, talking around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "I don't suppose you two wrote any of the chapters?"  
That brought a laugh to the table, and the twins grinned appreciateively.  
"No, but -- " " -- We were thinking of writing our own book." the pair of them replied.  
Mrs. Weasley scowled at them, "Why can't you two get a nice job in the ministry, like your father, and Percy?"  
"Really, mum, do you think the ministry would hire us?" queried Fred, stuffing himself with bacon.   
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes, "If you would only work harder on your grades .. and you have N.E.W.T.'s this year, you know! If I hear you don't get at least 20 .. " she spoke, waving the the ladle at them.  
The twins promised to be good and studious, though Harry knew quite well that was going to last about as long as a snowball in July heat.  
  
After some more awkward conversation with Ginny, Harry was almost thankfuly when Mr. Weasley stood up and pushed his chair in. "Well, I guess we had better get down to Diagon, then." he announced. The twins gave a whoop and ran into the living room, the rest of the family -- and Harry -- following.  
Grabbing a handful of powder, Fred cast it into the fire, causing the flames to shoot up and burn a bright, emerald green.  
"Diagon Alley!" he yelled gleefully, stepping into the fire to dissapear, his twin and mother following quickly behind.  
"Now, come on boys, Ginny, let's go." Ron barked his destination at the flames, and hopped right in, dissapearing along with the rest.  
"Uh, you first." said Harry hurridly, motioning to Ginny. She blushed again, but wasted no time, yelling at the flames and then stepping into them.   
Harry stepped up to the fireplace, shouting into the green flames, "Diagon Alley!" Stepping into the fires, he felt a strange spinning sensation overwhelm him, and not a moment later, he was tumbling out the grate in Diagon Alley, brushing dirt from his clothes.   
A second later Ginny stumbled out from the grate, followed shortly by her father. Everyone brushed themselves off, before they all headed down towards Gringotts, the one and only wizarding bank.  
  
Diagon Alley was .. different. Unlike the bustling and laughing community of earlier, there seemed to be a grim presence weighing down heavily on everyone, even the smallest children. Harry watched as a tearful mother or aunt bid a young man goodbye.  
"Be careful, Jeffrey! Write every chance you get!" Sobbing into a giant red hankerchief.  
'Jeffrey' gave her a hug, grimacing good-naturedly. "Don't worry mum. I'll be back quick as that. You won't even notice I"m gone." he said, as he stepped onto a gaudy red and green bus, identified as the 'DAY BUS' in sprawled white lettering.  
Harry's eyes darted back every so often towards the woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying into the hankerchief, until she was no longer visible through the crowds, sparser since last year.  
Some things are hard to forget.  
  
Through Gringotts' doors, and deep in the vault tunnels, Harry watched, with the familiar pang of guilt, as the Weasley parents scooped their meager amount of monetary posessions quickly into a bag, before heading onto Harry's.   
Harry didn't know how, but his parents had left him a sizeable fortune in his vault -- enough to finance his Hogwarts education, and then some. A great deal some.  
He tried to block the view of his veritable king's ransom, shoving some galleons, sickles, and knuts into a leather sack hurridly, before they all started back on their bumpy, jarring ride to the surface again.  
  
Back in front of Gringotts', they had split up. Fred and George went with Mr. Weasley to buy their things, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny went seperately on their way as well, leaving Harry and Ron to aquire their school items.  
"C'mon, let's go to Madame Malkins. I burnt through my gloves last year in Herbology, remember?" said Harry, grimacing as he remembered the stinging acid searing through the dragonhide.   
Entering the store, Ron nodded, looking cheerful. "You'd never guess it, but Fred and George bought me a new set of dress robes! They must've gotten a lot off that Ludo Bagman."  
Harry grinned in spite of himself, glad that Fred and George had remembered that part to the agreement. "That's great. No lace cuffs, right?" he said, examining the gloves rack.  
Ron rolled his eyes, "No, I managed to get rid of that one. Of course, when they gave it to me, I imagined they'd probably pick out something white and frilly, just to make fun." He shuddered, thinking of the purple robe with it's lace frill.  
Picking up a properly fitting pair of gloves, Harry paid for it, and they left the store for Flourish and Blotts, strolling through the quiet store.   
"So, are you gonna take any of those new classes? I never knew magic could be musical, myself." said Harry, as he picked out his standard course books for the year, from a shelf labeled 'HOGWARTS'. Quite handy.  
"Me neither, 'til I asked mum 'bout it." Ron pulled a face, as he plucked 'Magical Ballads and Songs'. "And of course, she's making me take the class."  
Harry grimaced, "Ouch." he sympathized, before reaching for a copy of the book as well. "I guess I'll be taking it as well, then." he said, firmly.  
"Thanks." mumbled Ron, as they both made their way, heavily laden with textbooks, to the counter, paying for them.   
"Excuse me, where are we going to find some Muggle instruments?" queried Ron, of the clerk, as he hefted his bag of books.   
"Oh, that's a long ways down the street .. right inside the exit to Knockturn Alley, a little store called 'Mandolins and More'. Everything you'll need." spoke the man behind the desk, never looking up from his book.  
  
Harry and Ron managed to make it down to the mouth of Knockturn Alley, and duck inside a small, dimly lit shop stacked with boxes of all kinds, from the floor to ceiling.  
A short, round-faced woman glanced over at the pair of them, smiling, "Don't tell me -- Hogwarts students, right?" she practically chirped, stepping out from behind the desk. Ron and Harry exchanged glances, before both of them nodded, "Yeah." they said, in unison.  
"Alright, now, hold on, this will only take a moment .. " the woman murmured, pulling out a length of tape, "Hold out your arms .. " They did, and she began to measure them them, clucking and mumbling to herself.  
After a half-minute or so of that, she started to rummage through endless boxes, before pulling out a pair of hefty cases, beaming with delight. "Mandolins, definately mandolins!" she chirped.  
"And that'll be nine Galleons apiece for them." the woman added. Ron looked incredibly disheartened, and took out the small purse he had, counting out the small amount of money that he had left.  
"Do you, uh, have anything that costs three Galleons?" queried Ron, with a sigh.  
Harry elbowed Ron in the side, and spoke loudly, "That's alright, we're both getting these. Eighteen Galleons, right?" he said, counting out the appropriate amount of money and handing it to the woman, who also got Harry to buy two sets of replacement strings, for the instruments as well. And then, some picks. Finally, after she gave them each an introductory pamphlet to their instrument, they managed to escape, lugging all of their things outside, and heading back onto Diagon Alley.  
"You didn't have to do that." mumbled Ron, not quite looking Harry in the eye.   
"Come on, now we both have the same thing -- mando-whatever." spoke Harry, "Besides, if it helps, I won't give you anything for christmas, then. Just kidding, just kidding!" he laughed, at the chagrined look on Ron's face.  
Ron didn't reply to the comment, but pointed down the street, "Hey, look! There's dad and them! C'mon!" he said, moving quickly towards the rest of his family, Harry in tow.   
Fred and George both looked like pack mules, carrying all their books, and with cases strapped over their shoulders.  
"Say, what kind of musical thing did she give you?" wondered Ron, shifting his sack of books, and mandolin case.   
"A gee-tar, she called it." spoke up George, while Fred added, "She gave us a little pamphlet full of these things called 'chords'."  
Mr. Weasley smiled, "Quite nice of her, boys. Now, let's go down to Fortescue's, your mother said she'd meet us all there when she was done."  
The six of them all marched down the street towards Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop, where Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were sitting at a table, working on a single, gigantic ice cream fudge Sunday.   
"Hello, boys. Did you find all your school supplies?" asked Mrs. Weasley, as the twins, Ron, and Harry, all relieved themselves of their things and set them down on tables, chairs, and whatever else they could.  
"Don't worry, Molly, we found everything for them, and still have extra left over." Mr. Weasley assured his wife, as they all sat down and started to dig into the enormous testament to ice cream.  
After several minutes, silent save for the sound of munching, slurping, and wolfing down the confection, Harry mentioned, "You know, we ought to write Hermione and see when she's coming back to England."  
Ron nodded his reply, sucking down a chunk of chocolate-syrup coated banana, "Yeah .. whenever she's done visiting Krum." he said, his expression darkening slightly.  
Harry almost quirked a brow, wondering if his friend was jealous .. but then again, they were in front of his family after all, not a great time to grill him about it. "She seems like she's having a good time over there."  
Munch-munch-munch-grudging nod.  
"So, uh, where's Percy?" queried Harry, groping for some conversational straws.  
Fred snorted into his ice cream, "Still badgering the Ministry about cauldron bottoms, I bet."  
George snickered and nodded, but their father, Arthur, gave them a stern look.  
"Percy's been helping out a great deal in the ministry, you ought to give him more credit." he said, shaking his spoon at the twins.  
"Yes dad." they both said, with perfectly straight faces, which dissolved into muffled laughter when their father turned his head.   
Harry shook his head, stifling his laughter, and joined the attack on the mountain of ice cream.  
  
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